Oh, dark night! How shall thou be so long!
A poor soul such as that of a writer may not be strong.
The only thing I can afford is to cream and weep,
I have had so many nights devoid of sleep.
Oh, Healer! Treat my mom with your best,
So that a downcast such as I can have some respite.
Fear of losing her and the trials of life are eating into me,
Inertia is reaching my entire soul.
Ignore me not, but my mistakes as I am dead tired,
An ugly soul that I am, lethargic and uninspired.
Is there anyone who can heal my fractured soul?
Oh, Mom! You alone stand to fill my creaked holes
My red tears dropping to the dry ground,
Alas! My tears make no sound.
Apart from this scribbling of lines with my tears make orison for my psychic fears,
thanatophobia of her and melancholia of life are eating me whole.
Give me some rest for my dead tired soul,
Oh! Mom, if I pass away before thee, bathe my dejected body with lukewarm water.
I might have broken your heart and papa’s but trust me it was not only yours,
Oh! Papa Pardon my blunders, pardon my blunders before they take me away to the graveyard.
I thank to lord of the universe to have you in my life,
But mom and dad you could have a better and loyal son more than I am.
(Author is Student and can be reached at: firstname.lastname@example.org)